In the Long Shadows
by Rowna Seria
Summary: After their big fallout, Thor coaxes Loki into joining him and his friends on their hunting trip. Things, however, do not go according to plan. In the aftermath, will Thor finally realize what went wrong that night? A sequel to "The Bird of Forgetfulness" and "A Memory all too Keen."
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I actually started writing this before I finished the last chapter of "A Memory all too Keen," but then classes happened! I went back to college after a long hiatus, and it showed! I wanted to think up a creature, but I could only think of them Avatar: TLA style, so my first thought was "it could be a viper-bear," so I gave it a weird name based off of Norse words and that was that. (Worm was used to refer to snakes too for a long time.)

This is a sequel to "**The Bird of Forgetfulness**" and "**A Memory all too Keen**." Although I meant to write it clear enough so that you do not have to read those stories first, I'm not so sure I was successful. I wanted to do that because this story has a rather different tone.

**Warnings**: Slash, and this time it's going to get more serious, also: first fight scene I've written in I don't know how long...

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**In the Long Shadows**

I.

For their first adventure together after such a long hiatus, Thor would never have expected or desired this outcome. He had Loki at his side, sure enough, but his brother was weak and feverish, wracked by the poisonous bite he received from a vicious beast known as a wormbjorn.

It all began the evening where they all celebrated their latest victory a little too enthusiastically. That night he had somehow managed to make a complete mess of his relationship with both Sif and Loki, while at the same time drinking enough to blot out all the memories relevant to his offences. Sif had been forgiving, Loki had not.

Loki had taken to ignoring Thor completely and refusing to go along with the group on their little "outings." The most unfortunate point of all was that, of what he remembered, he and Loki had been getting along better than they had in years. Thor was so hopeful they were finally returning to the closeness they shared when younger. But, apparently he had done something heinous enough to outweigh whatever ground they had gained, and, of course, Loki would not tell him what it was or what he could do to mend things between them.

The Warriors Three shrugged it off as one of Loki's moods, and Sif counseled him even more strongly to let his brother alone, with an impassioned, "If the serpent wants to sulk in his hole, I say let well enough alone and have done with him!"

Later, Thor reflected that he should not have been as surprised by her vehemence as he was at the time. Whatever had happened that night, it had exacerbated Sif and Loki's already strained relationship.

His friends did not seem to understand Thor's continued desire to include Loki in their doings. They were dissatisfied with his reasons always questioned him. It was obvious they were not satisfied with his answers, and he stopped bringing the topic up when they began to give him odd looks.

Because he no longer had an outlet for his concerns, he felt such great relief when Loki finally relented and agreed to go on a journey with them that he did not even think to question his brother's reasons for choosing that particular time.

What should have been a relatively leisurely late-autumn hunting trip in the forests of Vanaheim turned out to be much more deadly. The forest had been unusually bare of game, with few birds and fewer beasts. The first evening they began to make camp the party was set upon by an enraged wormbjorn. Not usually native to Vanaheim, the wormbjorn was massive in size with a shaggy coat, a long tail, and wickedly curved claws and fangs. There had been no signs of a large predator and they were taken completely unawares.

With one swipe of its paw the creature pitched the rotund Volstagg into the half-raised tents, effectively ensnaring the red-head for the rest of the battle. Next it knocked Hogun and Sif back with a single swoop of its tail, letting out a tremendous bellow.

Fandral had enough time to draw his blade, but the wormbjorn simply ignored the weapon as it struck the swordsman and bowled him over. He was forced to quickly scramble away to escape the beast's claws, blade screeching as Fandral used it to deflect them.

Hoping to end things quickly, Thor struck out at the creature's head with mjölnir. However, he had seriously underestimated its speed. With a flash of intuition he realized the wormbjorn would bite him with its dripping fangs before he could land his blow. Thor attempted to pull back, though he knew it was too late, when he was suddenly thrust to the side and nearly knocked off his feet. One fang left a long mark in Thor armor, but the beast missed, burying its head in the dirt.

It was then he saw he had his brother to thank for the timely intervention. Loki had tackled him at just the right angle to avoid merely replacing him in the creature's line of attack. But, before Thor could thank him or the scathing remarks he could see brewing behind Loki's eyes could leave his brother's mouth, the beast struck out again. The force of the blow drove Loki directly into Thor's chest and sent them both reeling. That's when they noticed the smoke rising from where the beast's fang had bit into Thor's armor. Quickly looping their arms around each other, the brother's stumbled back into the forest. Fortunately, the beast was distracted by the other warriors and their escape went unnoticed.

Once past the first line of trees, they quickly divested Thor of his armor. The fang's venom had corroded the outer armor swiftly and begun to eat into his undergarments. If they had taken any longer, Thor may have suffered serious burns.

"You idiot!" Loki hissed, keeping his voice low so as not to draw attention, "Did you pay no attention when our tutor covered beastlore! The wormbjorn's bite is lethal, even to us!"

Thor could hear the scorn dripping from every word, and knew his brother was doing everything to keep from shouting at the top of his voice. Loki's tone made Thor want to shout back in indignation, he could handle a simple beast! But before the words left him Loki stumbled and Thor saw the gaping wounds across his brother's back. A sudden vision of the blow that knocked them together flashed through his mind, and he knew that was when the wormbjon's claws tore into Loki. Thor was shocked his brother had not cried out louder.

His anger immediately drained away and he took Loki by the arm and turned him just enough to glace at the wound, "Brother, you are injured," he wished the concern he felt did not touch his voice, but the slight quiver would be unmistakable to one as clever as Loki.

"It is nothing," a blatant lie, judging from the amount of blood and the strain in Loki's voice, "do not concern yourself."

"Loki—"

"Leave me! Or would you abandon your friends in their hour of need?"

From their position Thor could see the agile Sif, Hogun and Fandral keeping the beast at bay by dividing its attention, but it was obvious they were wearing down quickly. Thor felt himself divided between his desire to insure his brother's safety, and his duty to his friends and the call of battle. Eventually duty won out, "Stay here, brother, I must finish this."

Thor rejoined the fray not a moment too soon. The beast managed to knock Sif away with its tail and came close to mauling Hogun, who managed to avoid being pierced by the wormbjorn's fangs by a hair's breadth. He noticed that the beast had a tendency to rear up and pause just before striking with lightning swiftness. If only the creature would do so when Thor had a clear shot…

Just as Thor was swinging Mjölnir while pondering how to bring this about, Volstagg freed himself from the fallen tents with a triumphant shout. The beast immediately turned and reared, bared its fangs, and prepared to strike. Thor let his hammer fly.

His aim was true and the powerful blow toppled the wormbjorn, stunning it and sending it to the ground with a great crash. The other warriors quickly moved in the finish the job.

As soon as he was sure of the beast's fate, Thor went in search of his brother. He was not surprised to find Loki had crawled to the edge of the clearing—his brother rarely followed injunctions to stay put. Thor's fond, half-smile at the thought was quickly wiped away when he saw how pale Loki was, sweat dripping from his brow, his entire frame trembling.

Thor quickly took his brother in his arms and turned him to get a clearer view of his back. Besides its poisonous bite, the wormbjorn's claws must have also been tainted, for Thor had never seen a fresh wound turn rotten so quickly. Through Loki torn, blood stained garments, he could see the jagged gouges had turned an alarming shade of purple mixed with a greenish-yellow puss, and wound smelt foul. Thor wanted to peel the clothes away to get a better look, but when he began to tug, Loki cried out, "No! Leave it!"

"Brother, your wound must be seen to."

"It burns… like fire," he said between spasms of pain, "Something is wrong… I must… see a healer…"

"Yes, of course," said Thor, shedding his cloak to make an improvised bandage to protect the wound form further contamination.

Glancing up, Thor called out, "Fandral, do you remember which direction the last farmstead we passed is from here?"

Some distant part of Thor's mind recognized he could not be trusted to choose the correct direction, not with something prickling in his gut that felt suspiciously like fear. If he took command of the situation, perhaps his friends would not pick up on it.

"The one with the pretty maid?" said Fandral, "Ah… yes, it should be just a little south and east from here."

Fandral and the others stood attentively, but a safe distance away. Loki was known to be temperamental when injured—well, more temperamental that usual.

"Hogun, do you know the way?" asked Thor while finishing the last knot on his makeshift bandage.

"Yes."

Thor nodded. He trusted Hogun more than any of the others, even himself, to be aware of his surroundings—except, perhaps, Loki. "Make sure you and Fandral agree. Sif and Volastagg? See to our things with Hogun once they are finished. Fandral, with me."

His friends followed his orders swiftly, he could see them turning to their tasks before he had even finished speaking. By the time he had hefted Loki up onto his shoulders, Fandral was already waiting at his side.

Letting out a painful whine, Loki said, "You should rig… a stretcher."

"There is no time," said Thor, and he felt it to be true deep in his being.

He could hear it in his brother's fading voice. Any second wasted could spell his end. Thor, true to his suspicions, almost set of in the wrong direction until Fandral pointed and said, "This way."

They struck out into the forest, Thor pushing mercilessly forward. Though burdened, he could hear Fandral's harsh breaths as he struggled to keep pace. As well as a guide, Thor had brought his friend in case he wearied, but although his shoulders ached and his muscles began to burn, he knew with a creeping certainty that nothing would induce him to set his brother down until they reached their destination.

The homestead became visible through the trees just as the sun was setting. Long shadows from the forest trees stretched over the small farmhouse, its open window a small pinprick of light in the gloom. Fandral announced their arrival, and a silhouette appeared in the door frame as it opened. After that, Thor's memories became a blur. The discussion to send the farmer's son for the nearest healer, the arrival of the remainder of their band, his supposed temper Sif scolded him for later: all were nothing compared to Loki's deteriorating state, mere wraiths on the periphery of Thor's awareness.

They had laid Loki on the only table in the room. It never occurred to Thor that this was probably the only large table the family owned, bare planks worn smooth by countless meals, countless scrubbings. All he could see was that it made such a woefully crude bed for his brother.

When the healer arrived the atmosphere of the entire room changed. She was a woman of that indeterminate age somewhere between no-longer-young and old. She had deep wrinkles around squinty eyes, which had the uncanny tendency to flash when they caught the light. It was with this piercing look and her aura of authority that she shooed Thor, his friends, and the farmer and his offspring into another room, retaining only his wife as an assistant. A rebellious part of Thor wanted to protest, to demand to be at Loki's side, but something about the woman's weathered hand on his shoulder made her harsh demands kind.

Then came the wretched waiting. Sometimes one of Thor's friends would attempt to speak, to draw him into conversation, sometimes one of them would give a weak laugh to an even weaker joke, but he could not help but feel the most gratitude towards Hogun, who remained silent. At some point Thor allowed himself to merely gaze at the door, there was no reason to feign interest in anything else.

In a moment as unexpected as it was anticipated, the healer entered, letting the group take in her presence before beginning to patiently explain what she had done. Thor could only remember the bare bones of what she said, so distracted were his thoughts. The wound was infected. She had done all she could to neutralize the poisonous infection and treat his external injuries, but much of the toxin had already worked its way into his system. The rest Loki's body would have to cure on its own. Because of the poisoning, Loki's natural healing would be inhibited. He would present flu-like symptoms, but should recover. She also left them with instructions on how to change the bandages and apply the ointment to keep the wound clean.

The farmer gave them use of a room. There was some discussion of compensation, of arranging a place for the other warriors to stay, but Thor had no patience for minutiae and left it all in his friends' capable hands. Once Loki was laid in the bed, pale and weak, Thor felt an unknown knot of tension inside release. At least Loki now smelt of herbs and bandages instead of infection.

As he took Loki's hand in his own, guilt finally began to replace worry as a heavy mass in the pit of his stomach. This was his brother, who he was supposed to protect. How was it they always ended up like this? It had been years since Loki needed defending, if he ever did, and his temperament had become such that Thor knew his brother would take any unasked for assistance as an insult—or at least, he would take it very poorly and with bad grace. But now, all that was stripped away, and Thor was forced to admit he still felt that strong need to protect his younger brother.

Thor tried to imagine how things could have gone differently, but he had never been good at reasoning out possible alternatives. In the end, he could only hold Loki's hand and hope that tomorrow he would begin to heal, and maybe they could begin again.

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A/N: As always, I'd love to hear what you thought :) And thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: So, writers block and school combine as poorly as I remember... But, new chapter! I decided I really did not want to write another "OMG I'm sick and raving" chapter (been there, done that. It's not much fun... for me, and therefore for you too, imo, because then I write crap.) So. I started a bit later in the action :)

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II.

Loki had always been a terror when sick, and this time was no exception. At first he had done little else than moan while his fever ran its course, and Thor had stayed by his brothers side. But, as soon as Loki was aware enough to realize Thor was hovering, the trickster chased him off with harsh words.

That was why Thor was in the yard chopping wood. Being so sedentary had made him restless, and he wanted to do something for the farm family who had shown them such hospitality. Thor only slowly realized what terrible guests they had been. While Loki's fever burned, he had eyes for little else, and Sif gave him a poor report of his conduct.

His mind had been much like the sickroom, tormented by his brother's delirious ravings and stuffy to the point of choking. Out in the crisp autumn air, scented with dry leaves and the coming frost, Thor felt his head begin to clear. The rhythmic swing of the axe was comforting, the physical exertion giving him a clarity of thought he was usual incapable of while sitting still. Thor was finally able to unravel the thoughts that had troubled him through Loki's fever.

The warriors three and Sif had not understood the protectiveness and lingering sense of guilt that had glued him to Loki's bedside, and Thor began to regret some of the harsh rebuffs he had given to their entreaties for him to rest. In his delirium, Loki's tongue had wandered over subjects that would have left him mortified, had their friends learned of it. His childhood fears, ramblings over strange encounters, which Thor could not tell whether they were real or imaginary. Sometimes he spoke no words at all, only incomprehensible strings of syllables. Thor wished to save his brother the embarrassment.

Beyond that, Loki occasionally seemed to touch upon the events that had lead to this disaster, but never enough for Thor to remember that night in its entirety. All he remembered was the desperate need to draw his brother close before he drifted away, the feeling once again clutching his heart the same way his hand had gripped Loki's.

Thor tried to imagine what offence he could have committed that would cause Loki to shut him out so completely. It wasn't until he brought the axe down to split the final piece of wood that the answer came to him. Much like that morning, Loki had pushed him away when he got too close. They must have been gotten very cozy for Loki to shun him so completely. It was a development in his brother Thor was having difficulty understanding.

Wiping the light sweat from his brow, Thor began to stack the split logs underneath the awning attached to the side of the house. The work had not been difficult, but even this close to winter the midday sun was warm. The farmer's wife told him before he began chopping that she was preparing a soup. It should be done by now, and perhaps he could take some in to Loki and placate his brother's ill humor.

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It was dim in the small bedroom room, the single window letting in only a little square of light. Thor had tracked its course as the days went by during his brother's delirium; the path it traced on the floor never seemed to reach all the way to the bed. Loki was sitting up, leaning back against the headboard, his face in shadow.

"I have brought you some broth," said Thor, hoping Loki's mood had improved.

"I could smell it cooking. A peace offering, then?" said Loki coolly, without revealing any emotion.

Thor blushed; embarrassed to be so easily caught out, although Loki's ability to divine his motives as if they were transparent was nothing new. Of course, Thor was never one to hide. "Yes," he confessed, setting the tray with the bowl down in front of his brother, "Kaya, the farmers wife, said it was ready."

The tray had feet so it could sit on the bed across Loki's lap. Loki paused for a moment, making a great show of considering the soup, before carefully taking his first sip. Thor wondered, not for the first time, why Loki felt so compelled never to appear to accept something without reservation.

Thor resisted the urge to tell his brother to just give over and eat the excellent broth, and instead spoke, starting with what had irritated his brother that morning. "I am sorry we had words earlier, brother, but I still do not understand why you were so upset with me—why you do not want others to know of your deeds in the forest."

He waited for a reply, but when Loki continued to silently sip his soup, Thor felt himself becoming frustrated. "Why do you not answer?"

Loki paused and gave him a withering stare, "Do you wish me to speak, or do you wish me to eat? I cannot to both at once."

Thor growled and turned away. Loki was bating him, again.

The view out the window reminded Thor of his morning spent chopping wood. His brother would have scoffed if he knew. But Loki did not know, and some of the contentedness seeped back into Thor and gave him the rare strength to have patience with his willful brother.

For a moment Loki caught his eye and then began to eat his broth with deliberate slowness. Thor's newfound resolve quickly began to fray, "_Brother._"

Loki merely responded with a wicked smile.

"Come now, brother, why hide the tale?" Thor attempted approach the subject again, "One would think you would relish the chance to brag about how you saved my hide!"

The change in Loki's mood was instant, and he snapped, "Thor, you do not understand how it will appear to others! What the fools will say."

"What could they _possibly_ say?"

"I do not know if you simply lack any skill in observation, or if your skull is too thick to grasp the obvious. Thor," and Loki looked pained, as if the words were knives that cut as they were spoken, "I was wounded severely across my _back_. No matter what the circumstance, it is a coward's wound."

"None would dare make such an accu—"

"_To your face!_ But they will think it, and laugh about it far from your hearing."

"I would tell them the truth. Anyone low enough to think otherwise is below consideration!"

"It would make no difference," Loki seemed suddenly exhausted as he sagged back against the pillows, all the fight draining out of him.

Thor pressed anyway, "_Why not_?"

And Loki gave his brother one of those piercing looks, as if he were trying to read into Thor's soul, before he decided to speak, "Because they will believe you are merely covering for me, a kindly lie meant to save face."

Thor scowled, "Loki… you have too little faith in others."

"And you have too much."

They were quite for some time, eyes averted, before Loki spoke, "I do not ask you to understand why I wish what happened to remain between us and… the present company, but brother, please, respect my wish not to speak of it."

Thor felt his frown slowly relaxing back into a neutral expression, not realizing he'd been holding the same scowl until he released it.

"As you wish, brother."

A feeling of exhaustion settled on Thor once he agreed. He noticed for the first time the deep shadows under Loki's eyes, even as his dark haired brother held himself stiffly, arms crossed over his chest. Deciding the moment of truce was a good time to leave before they got into another squabble, Thor took up the now cool tray of soup. Loki had only managed to eat half.

"Do you need anything else?"

"No. Just rest," said Loki, closing his eyes, and thus the conversation.

Somehow, they had once again fought without coming any closer to discussing that night, as Thor wished.

He quietly left the room. Perhaps Sif and the others would soon return from their hunt with fresh game for dinner.

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A/N: This chapter was supposed to be a lot longer, originally, but I couldn't decide where to start, and added a scene with Sif, and finally decided to break it up. Next we get the healer!

Comments are always welcome, and many thanks for the faves and alerts!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This has been sitting on my laptop nearly complete for months, but I couldn't decide how to fix it because the tone wasn't quite right. Not to mention the fact that I was swamped by school and work (and crummy, winter induced feelings).

Since I've been working on my Harry Potter fic, however, I've got back into the swing of editing. I finally figured out how to make it work ok, so I just edited this quick and decided to get it up. Because I'm working on another fic, the next chapter is on hold. But don't worry, with all the upcoming movies, I'm sure I'll get my groove back ;)

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III.

Loki pulled down his shirt while the healer sat back and began to speak, "Your back has healed well, and I can find no sign of the toxin in your blood, but you will need to rest to regain your strength. I would recommend waiting to attempt a long journey for another week. Were you one of my usual patients I would recommend longer, but because I am unfamiliar with your healing capabilities, I can only estimate."

Tucked away in the corner of the room, Thor was just far enough to offer a bit of privacy while still making sure the healer knew her trade. He watched as the she began to pack up her paraphernalia. After she left to collect her payment, some of the choice bits of meat from the game Sif and the Warriors Three brought back, Loki and Thor stared each other down, waiting to see who would speak first. In contests of this type, however, one of them was the uncontested winner.

"Loki, are you still angry with me?"

After a moment silence, Loki spoke, "No… It seems to me a little unnecessary for a whole party to stay. You and the others should return, I'll be well enough on my own."

"Loki—"

He shrugged, "All I'll be doing is sleeping and eating soup, hardly a worthy adventure."

"Mother would prefer to hear word of us directly, even if father has sent Huginn and Muninn…"

"Yes, and you lot could cease to impose on this… obliging farmer."

Thor nodded as he stood, speaking as he opened the door, "You are right, Loki. I will go tell the others to prepare to leave."

Loki's eyebrows lifted, "You'll be going, then?"

"Of course not, I'll stay with you brother, never fear!"

Thor stepped through the door so quickly he missed his brother's scowl.

Outside Sif and the Warriors Three had built a fire and were now roasting their game. Volstagg was overseeing the turning of the spit, and judging by the wonderful smell things were going well. The farmer's wife was cooking vegetables over her own fire near the house, and the farmer and his children were busy with chores. Even so, he could see the young farm maid eyeing Fandral as she carried a bucket from the barn. Thor chuckled to himself; the farmer would probably be more than pleased to have the current company off his hands.

As he approached, Thor could hear his friends laughing loudly, and he was curious to find out what was so amusing. They seemed to be discussing the killing of the wormbjorn. Volstagg was using his best story telling voice, describing the creature attack, but he seemed to be having trouble.

" …and the valiant Loki was, er… slashed in the back…" he trailed off, loosing his momentum.

"How about struck from behind?" offered Fandral, only half paying attention.

Thor could hear Sif's raised eyebrow in her voice, "While fleeing, is what that sounds like."

Frandral made another attempt: "The valiant Loki turned mightily and was viciously rent from behind—No. I am afraid no amount of adjectives can save that sentence."

"Well," said Volstagg hopefully, "maybe the next part will make up for it."

"What part?" Sif's voice oozed sarcasm, "Where he boldly bled behind a bush?"

Fandral let forth a loud crowing laugh, "Sif, when did you drink the mead of poetry?"

"No, I meant—" but Volstagg never had time to finish his sentence.

Thor's rage boiled in his veins until it burst into a thundering roar

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?"

His friends were taken completely by surprise, and his only reply was shocked and wary faces.

He wanted to destroy something, throw the roasting beast in the fire, but that would hardly be enough. Storming off to sate his rage, Thor walked a good distance away from the farm. It felt as if he were ready to burst in frustration, and there was only one way he knew to release the tension. Violence.

He hurled Mjölnir into the forest where she flew directly through the trunk of a tree with a mighty crack before returning to Thor's hand. The tree groaned and toppled over into its fellow, their combined weight uprooting the second tree and sending them both crashing into a third with a great groaning and clamor of leaves beating against each other.

When he was done watching the destruction, and feeling at least a little bit satisfied, Thor turned back to look towards the farm. That's when he saw Sif, standing and watching from atop the hill, near the barn. Her obvious weariness of his mood was almost enough to set him of again. Although always infuriating, he almost preferred Loki's disregard for his personal space when he was in a temper. He hated it when people decided to tip-toe around him. But it seemed Sif was satisfied he was safe to approach, and began striding down the hill towards him.

"What is it?" Thor demanded, surliness permeating his voice.

"I would like to understand what's made you so upset," she said, never one to dance around an issue.

Thor grunted and began pacing like a caged beast, though all the world was open to him. How to explain his thoughts to Sif? "I am angry because… Loki was right."

"Right about what?"

Thor stopped in his tracks and looked directly into her eyes, "About what people would say of his wounds."

Sif looked concerned, or confused, "Volstagg was trying to think of the best way to tell the tale. We were only speaking in jest. Although" she hastily amended when she saw Thor's expression darken, "it was perhaps in poor taste. You know we would not cast such aspersions on Loki's honor in front of others."

"I know," Thor's expression relaxed, the anger beginning to bleed out of him, "but not long ago we argued over that very subject. Loki was certain he would be called a coward. I said it was not so. It was startling to hear his fears confirmed.

"I am sorry, my prince; we did not know."

"Loki has asked that we leave out the location of his injury in the retelling, and I've agreed."

"As you wish."

Thor seemed to notice for the first time he still held Mjölnir tight in his fist, and he hung her back on his belt a little self-consciously.

"Thor," began Sif hesitantly, "there is something that worries me."

"What would that be?"

"I cannot help but wonder how the wormbjorn came to be in the forest at all, they are not usually found in this area," Sif hesitated before continuing, "It just… seems too convenient to have been an accident."

"What are you saying?" said Thor, his voice darkening.

"Merely that… it could have been deliberate. Someone… could have released it, though it would be difficult to transport and conceal. But it would be simple with magic…"

"Are you implying Loki had something to do with it?"

"Well, you must admit—"

Thor could feel his temper boiling to the surface once more, "That he _deliberately_ released it so he could become _grievously injured_?!"

"No!" Sif shouted, then quieter, "no… but keep your guard up."

Thor tried to understand the look in her eyes, but could make nothing of it. It was obvious, however, that she was concerned, and that was something he could appreciate, "Thank you for the warning, Sif, but do not worry. I can handle any danger."

Thor smiled reassuringly, but Sif could only give a weak smile back.

"Loki merely needs to recover his strength, now. I have decided it would be best for the rest of you to return to Asgard—I know Mother would be glad to hear news of us from the mouths of friends, whatever Huginn and Muninn have told my father."

"I would ask to stay and assist you."

Thor gave her and indulgent smile, "You are a good friend, Sif, but it is not necessary. If I know Loki, he would rather be alone."

Sif looked at him out of the corner of her eye before nodding in assent; Thor could tell she left many things unsaid, "I will tell the others to make ready to leave by the morning."

"Thank you."

Thor grasped her by the shoulder and squeezed. He appreciated the offer, but Sif and Loki were sure to have an altercation if it were only the three of them.

"Sif?" Thor began to slyly grin.

"Yes?"

"One other thing, do not tell Loki I said he was right."

The shield maiden smiled back, "Of course not."

After exchanging conspiratorial smiles, Sif turned back towards the farmhouse to carry out her self appointed task. Thor was once more reminded of what a formidable woman she was. Where even most men would falter, she was not afraid to confront him. He was deeply glad to have earned her friendship and loyalty.

He tarried near the edge of the wood for some time, before returning to join his friends in their feast.


End file.
